


Heroism Isn't Hereditary

by Lywinis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, M/M, background Bioquake, background Capsicoul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 23:40:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15593373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lywinis/pseuds/Lywinis
Summary: Five times Daisy stops herself from calling Coulson her dad, plus one time she does.





	Heroism Isn't Hereditary

**One**  

“You’re going to be fine,” Phil said, his voice soothing in her ear as she raced through the hallways, her boots pounding the concrete of the tunnels. “Make another right at the fork here, then head straight past three doors, then enter the last one on the left.”

“I’m not going to ask how you have a HYDRA base laid out by memory,” she snarked, even though it was out of breath snarking that sounded more like whining when it actually was given life with her voice.

“They’re boring and don’t ever change the layout,” Phil replied. “They had two designs in the forties and they don’t want change, not like that.”

“I still don’t get why they’re trying to take over,” she huffed, counting doors. “It’s not like we don’t still have milkshakes and racism—”

An explosion in the distance rattled the compound, and she skidded to a stop in front of the last door.

“You know what you’re looking for?” he asked.

“Yep,” she said. “Server room, plug in the USB key, get the data downloaded, then out. Is it getting hot in the landing zone?”

Muffled gunfire over the comms confirmed her suspicions.

“I’ve got to handle something,” he said. “Meet in one hour two klicks south of here, Quake. Don’t be late, or you’re grounded.”

“You’ve got it, Da—Director. Be careful.”

“Of course.”

* * *

**Two**  

“You’re up late,” Phil said, plopping down beside her on the couch.

She shrugged, offering him the bowl of popcorn mixed with chocolate candy, grinning as he dug out a handful. There was something mindless on TV, an old B-movie with a dude who had a massive chin getting beaten up by undead. Good brain candy, not a lot of plot to follow.

“Can’t sleep?” His tone was one of concern, not one of censure. That was the thing about Coulson; when not in direct danger, his mothering instincts took over and he tended to be a broody hen when it came to their wellbeing.

Daisy hummed, swallowing her M&M and popcorn mouthful. “More like my brain won’t shut off.”

“So you’re watching horror movies?”

“More like classics,” she said, gesturing with the remote as she leaned over, flopping so she rested against his side and he’d tucked a companionable arm around her. He’d forgone the ever-present suit, though she couldn’t say he looked out of place in the worn Def Leppard shirt (though it was definitely a dad band) and pajama pants.

“You want a classic, you’d watch Young Frankenstein,” he said.

“Mel Brooks?” she tipped her head back and peered up at him. “I didn’t think you were a man of sophistication. Aren’t you all about the old reel propaganda and dad stuff like World War II documentaries?”

He snorted. “I can still have a good time, jeez.”

“We’ll see about that,” she said, handing him the remote. “You pick next.”

* * *

**Three**

“Stop fussing with it,” Daisy said, standing on tiptoe to straighten his collar for what felt like the umpteenth time. “It’s fine.”

“I still feel like I need a tie—”

“If you touch that tie rack, I will eject all of them out the window at 30,000 feet and May will help me,” Daisy said, swatting at his hands. “Tie is too formal this time.”

He lifted his brow at her in the mirror, watching her hide his tie rack behind another of his suit jackets.

“So, who died and made you fashion coordinator?” he asked.

“The fact that you were going to go to drinks with Captain America in a full black suit that screamed ‘Look at me, I’m an Agent of SHIELD! I couldn’t be casual if I tried!’, that’s who,” she said. Her hands met her hips as she gave him a challenging stare in the mirror. “You’ve got game, Coulson, don’t be nervous. He asked you out, so you know, rock the dad vibe and do the dressed down ‘just off work’ look, like you just paid the sitter and are out for the first night for you in a couple weeks.”

“I should make you do burpees for that,” he groused, though his lips were twitching even as he said it. Her answering smile was enough, honestly.

“You’ll kill it,” she said. They could feel Melinda taxiing the plane, the dull roar as the VTOL for the BUS kicked in and she docked them in the hangar. Daisy swore the queer feeling of them slowing down and changing direction in what was essentially a jumbo jet would never stop being weird for her. “And I really, really want to snap your walk of shame, so take your time.”

“I really am going to make you do burpees.”

* * *

**Four**

“Breathe,” he said, cupping her face as her vision cleared. “Take a deep, slow breath for me. Match me.”

She focused on his voice, letting her breathing take on his rhythm,  _inhale-beat-exhale-beat-inhale_ —

“I killed them,” she said, feeling bile rising up in her throat as she said the words.

“Daisy,” he said, forcing her face up so she was focused on his eyes, too grey like the powder that covered this dusty cavern she’d hollowed out for them with the last of her strength. “Look at me.”

She could feel the tears welling up as she did.

“You did what was necessary,” he said softly. “I’m not going to say there was another way—hell, we might look back in twenty minutes and see a whole other route to get here, where we are now—but I’m also not going to condemn you for saving our skins.”

“I just…I never wanted these powers to hurt people,” she said, her voice breaking on the last word. “It was never supposed to be like this.”

“I know,” he said. He pulled her close, gathering her against his chest, and the solidness of him there, and breathing, was enough to bring her a sense of focus and clarity. She clung to him like a lifeline, shuddering. She didn’t know how long she wept, but he held her through the last shaking sob.

Jemma cracking a glowstick caught both of their attention. Daisy’s eye was drawn to Jemma’s face, to the bruising she’d endured at the hands of the AIM subcell that had taken her captive. She felt Coulson’s arms relax, and she sat back, tucking her hair behind her ears. The others were already setting up bivouac for the night to let her gain her strength back; Mack and Bobbi were getting food together and laying out emergency blankets.

She had her family. That would be enough to get by, until she could put this load down and catalog the hurts and decompress.

It was always enough.

“Thank you,” she whispered, reaching out and squeezing Coulson’s hand.

“Any time,” he said.

* * *

**Five**

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” she said, patting Coulson’s face. He was out like a light, the cut across his brow bleeding freely—thankfully she knew that headwounds were bleeders so she didn’t freak out more than she already was. “May, we’re gonna need a Hail Mary.”  
  
“I regret ever letting him teach you that phrase,” she huffed over the comms. “Is he conscious?”

“Not yet,” she said. “He got clocked pretty hard by that aftershock.”

“All right. I’m bringing in the Quin. Get to the edge of the field and don’t show your position until I uncloak. I’m gonna need you to make a run for it, if you can. Mack is with me and can strap him in.”

“Okay,” she said, frowning. “He’s heavier than last time. Has he been getting fat?”

“Muscle,” May said. “That serum packed on at least twenty pounds of it.”

“Jeez,” she grunted, shifting Coulson into a fireman carry as she listened carefully for the telltale whisper of the Quin touching down. “You’d think he’d at least have a dad-bod to go with the dad personality.”

“If he were awake you’d be grounded.”

“Exactly why I’m saying it now.”

“We’re here.”

The hum of the Quin got louder as the cloak slipped away, revealing the craft close to a hundred yards from where she was hiding, and Daisy took off at a jog so as not to jostle Coulson too hard. She handed him off to Mack and they got him strapped into the gurney at the back of the plane even as Melinda blipped them off the radar once again and took them back to base.

* * *

**Bonus:**

“Daisy.”

She turned from where she was leaning against the window, looking out at the cars below and really just enjoying the sunshine since their extended stay underground.

“I just heard the big news,” Coulson said. “I’m glad. You two always were a good team.”

“Ah,” she said, feeling the flush rise up to her ears. “Thanks.”

It had taken bravery far greater than the feats she’d done as Quake to pop the question to Jemma, but it had been all well worth it. She bit her lip, hiding her grin.

“You know,” he said, strolling to the window and looking out with her, standing shoulder to shoulder. “I’m really very proud. Of you both. You’ve both overcome a hell of a lot of stuff thrown at you in such a short amount of time, and you’ve become stellar agents along the way. You’re exactly the kind of person I was looking for when I brought you on board.”

“A hacktivist with just enough knowledge to be dangerous?” she asked.

He smirked, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Someone who gave enough of a damn to try and change the world.”

“Someone like you, you mean.” When he didn’t answer, she looked at him. He was far away, his eyes distant as he looked out the window. “…Coulson?”

“Hm?” He blinked, seeming to come back to himself. “Sorry. I was remembering when I was that young and full of my own bullcrap.”

She shoved him, gently against his shoulder. “You’re still full of bullcrap.”

“Probably,” he said with a grin. “But I wanted you to know that I really am proud of you.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m glad you came by, because I kinda wanted to ask you something.”

“Shoot,” he said, giving her an awkward pair of finger guns. She supposed it was only awkward because it was Coulson, and he managed it at some of the best times.

“I was wondering if you would, uh, walk me down the aisle?” she asked. She rubbed the back of her neck, cutting her gaze away. “I don’t really have anyone else I’d rather do it, and I mean, you’re basically my dad anyway and—”

She cut herself off, clenching her jaw. Oh, that was the wrong thing to say. She’d never wanted him to know that she looked at him like that, he was already sensitive about that sort of thing and—

He sniffed. She looked up and found him wiping at the corners of his eyes with his thumb.

“I’d be happy to,” he said, his voice thick, like he’d gotten something caught in his throat. He coughed softly, meeting her gaze then. “I’d be honored.”

“Thanks,” she said. “I just…is this gonna make things weird? Me calling you Dad?”

“Weirder than they already are?” he asked. “I doubt it.”

“Good,” she said. She leaned into him, and he wrapped an arm around her. “You want to go get some food? I’m hungry.”

“Hi hungry,” he said, and she could hear the laughter in his voice. “I’m dad.”

“You are so  _lame_ ,” she squawked, shoving at him even as he laughed at his own terrible joke.

**Author's Note:**

> Platonic Phil and Daisy gives me life. Drabbles I posted on tumblr but something I wanted to keep beyond that. Thanks for reading!


End file.
